Masks
by Mizuhara
Summary: As eleven broken children prepare for their day they affix their individual masks, these visors are used to protect them from the cruelty that is human beings. The pieces of who they once were sway in the breeze, held in place by their facades. M GORE


RATED M FOR GORE IN LATER CHAPTERS! AND THE POINT OF VIEW JUMPS AROUND IN THIS CHAPTER, BUT IT WILL BE MORE CONSISTENT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER.

He stared down blankly at the crimson that stained his skin. _How did I get here? _He looked around at the body's that littered the floor, and slowly raised his hand to his mouth. _Wh-what happened?_ His tongue darted out and he felt the coppery oily texture of blood hit his tongue. _Why is there so much blood?_ He raised his eyes and glanced around at his surroundings, his eyes were hit with the stunning greyness of what appeared to be a warehouse. _Those people on the ground, don't, don't I know them...?_ His head throbbed lightly from a massive migraine that raged in his brain. _God, my head hurts._ The silence around him was deafening. _Was-wasn't it loud a second ago?_ The boy dropped his head in to his hands, _who am I?_

***10 months previously***

Our story begins on a breezy autumn day, eleven broken children are about to start their first day of another school year. As they all prepare for the day they affix their individual masks, these visors are used to protect them from the cruelty that is human beings. The pieces of who they once were sway in the breeze, held in place by their facades.

***Its 6 am and we join our first character...***

The teen was tall, he had glistening blond hair smoothed back with cheap gel and his eyes shone a bright blue. He let out a breath, and just from that one breath the faintest of a German accent could be picked up. That is, if there had been anyone else at the school, he appeared to be the only one who had shown up so early. His backpack rested on his shoulders with the straps tightened just enough to ensure that it would not be harmful to his back. He happened a glance up at the trees that towered over him; their leaves were no longer the vibrant green of summer, but now the elegant oranges of fall. The boy breathed in through his nose, taking in the smell of autumn the morning, he let out a sound that if you knew him could be taken as an indicator of contentment. With one last deep breath he steeled his nerves and began to walk towards the school.

***Elsewhere in a small Italian looking house***

The small Italian boy gazed into the mirror. He moved his hand and slowly rested it against the reflective surface. He jumped at a sudden sharp knock on the door.

"...Yes?" the words glided out of his mouth smoothly in response to whoever stood behind the door

"Feli, open the door. I need the bathroom too." The boy breathed out a sigh of relief at the calming sound of his brother's voice.

"One sec."He moved forward and fumbled with the lock, after a few seconds he was rewarded with a resounding click and the door was opened to reveal his older brother standing in the door way. His hand loosely held the hem of his pyjama shirt; he removed it with one swift movement and tossed it into the boys shared room. The younger boy crinkled his nose in annoyance as his eyes moved over the discoloured purple spots that littered his older brother's torso.

He opened his mouth and motioned to the bruises "Was it-"

"Yes." The older boy nodded tersely as he manoeuvred around his sibling to the far cabinet. He reached up and opened the cupboard, it was mostly empty except for toothbrushes, toothpaste, and some q-tips, he moved all of the items out and placed them on the counter. He then moved his hand to the bottom corner of the cupboard and pulled out the back panel of wood. It revealed a hidden compartment full of band-aids, tenser bandages, bruise creams, Tylenol, and other assorted medical items. The boy pulled out a bottle of bruise cream squirted some into his hand, and started to rub it on himself.

He turned to his brother who was brushing his teeth, "So...are you going to go in there smiling and all of your usual shit? You know it just makes my job harder." He finished with the bruise cream and replaced it in the cabinet, before fitting the panel of wood back in place, putting the few items back in the cupboard and closing it.

The younger one spat toothpaste into the sink, a smirk with a look of irony played on his face, "Only if you act like a little bitch."

The older boy turned back to his brother again, and mirrored the smile, "Sounds good to me."

***Off in a very western looking house***

"Alfred dearest, are you ready for school, first day of grade 11 honey!" The boy, Alfred, sat straight up in bed, a ridiculous smile on his face. His hair whipped around at the force of his movement.

"Ok mom! Coming." He climbed out of his queen bed and wandered over to his dresser, and grabbed the handle; pulling roughly he forced the drawer to come out until it was hanging on the edge of falling to the ground.

"Nnnh, what time is it." A cot bed sat shoved haphazardly in the corner of the room, somebody rolled around under the thin sheets.

"Oh right! Um hey...you." Alfred replied grinning at the bed, as he spoke he pulled on as much brand named clothing as humanly possible, "It's time to get up."

"...I have been your brother for 16 years, could you please try and remember my name?" the lump rolled around as it spoke, finally the person underneath the blanket broke free of the cocoon that he had rolled himself into. He stood wearing what appeared to be everyday clothes.

"No! I totally know your name...it's uh...Tyler right?" Alfred scratched his head, as if trying to get rid of a particularly nasty mosquito bite.

"No...No its not. My name is Matthew." The second boy, Matthew, furrowed his eyebrows together and leaned down to tie up his worn out trainers.

"Oh yeah...I knew that. Say, why are you wearing your day clothes to bed?" Alfred leaned down and pulled out an expensive pair of pumas from underneath the dresser.

Matthew deadpanned and looked his twin in the eye "They're the only clothing I own."

Now it was Alfred's turn to have his eyebrows knit together, "But aren't we rich?"

"Yes, yes we are." And with that Matthew turned and walked down the hall to the washroom.

Alfred shrugged it off and headed towards the en-suite washroom attached to his room. Once he was finished in the washroom he headed down to the kitchen for breakfast, seating himself comfortably across the table from his father, he waited for his mother to bring him breakfast.

"Hi sweetie," his mother kissed him on the forehead and placed a hamburger in front of him "To celebrate your first day of grade 11 we made you your favourite for breakfast." She mussed his hair playfully and sat down next to him; his father glanced up from his newspaper and flashed Alfred a smile. A tired moan emitted from the top of the stairs, Matthew stood at the top, rubbing a hand over his face but all the while trying to spare his glasses. He started to descend the stairs at a pace that could only be described as super slow mo. Their mother glanced over at the stairs "Oh Alfred, I didn't know that you had a frien-..." she squinted and adjusted her glasses a few time, "oh, good morning Matthew. You know where the cereal is." She strode across the kitchen and popped open the dishwasher, slowly emptying the spotless dishes.

Matthew cleared his throat, "Well, um actually I was wondering if I could maybe make myself pancakes, since it is my first day of class and all." He stared hopefully at the back of his mother's head, until his father cleared his throat and caught his attention.

His father glanced up over the paper, a single eyebrow raised, "do you really have time?" Alfred was already skipping over to his bag by the door; they were supposed to be leaving in mere minutes.

Matthew looked down at his shoes, "I guess I'll just have a cereal bar..."

***At the same time in a lovely Spanish cottage***

A boy of 16 with runaway brown hair looked in the mirror, "I am Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and am an excellent person no matter what they say." He tried smiling; it came out cracked and withered. He took a calm breath in and then out. "I am Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and am an excellent person no matter what they say." He tried smiling again, this time it was only a little cracked. He took another breath and glared into the mirror, imagining it shattering from the stare. "I am Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and am an excellent person no matter what they say." This time his smile looked believable, and whether he felt his words or not, he decided he could face him.

Pivoting on his heel he exited the bathroom and headed toward the stair case, he swiftly sat on the rail and slid down the stairs in a stylishly balanced way. He quickly made his way into the kitchen and started rummaging through the shelves. He tensed as he heard footsteps behind him, but before the person could notice him tensing he threw on a smile and turned to face the person, his dad.

"Hey pops! How are you doing on this fine break of day?"

His father looked at him weirdly, "What are you goin' on about now you freeloader?"

Antonio lightly held back a wince and continued to smile, "Just wondering how your morning has been so far." His father look turned into a glare

"Yeah whatever, get out of my house. Or do you want to end up with no education like your pothead of a friend."

"Pop…Gilbert doesn't do drugs…" The smile slipped off of Antonio's face.

"Yeah, and your French friend doesn't fuck other men. Just get the hell out, and for the love of god, stay away for as long as possible."

"…Pop…I…" Antonio bit his tongue, yelling at his father would do nothing to make him take the insults back, he quickly threw his smile back on, "Whatever, I'll see you later!"

***In a lovely little French townhouse a whole other deal was going on***

"Mother! Do you know where my clean clothing is?" A boy with shoulder length golden locks searched through his room frantically, wearing nothing save for a pair of navy blue boxers.

"Mon Dieu! Francis, my dear boy but you are almost out of time!"

"Yes! Yes! I know mom! That's why I'm rushing! Now can you help me or not." Francis frantically threw clothing across the room, but alas all of it was dirty.

"Well I did clean the clothing last night...so check the clothing machine washer!"

"It's the Washing machine, or the Washer. And thanks!" He quickly carted out of his room, effectively running into his father. "OH! Père, good morning." Francis did a hasty salute.

His father looked down, "At ease...where is your clothing solider?"

Francis turned bright red, "Oh, I um ...it's in the washer."

"I see, well then have a good day of classes. Try to get a girlfriend, and steer clear of that Prussian fellow."

Francis kept his eyes locked on the floor, feeling his face light up even more at the girlfriend part "Ou-oui père."

His father looked at him one last time before nodding tersely and walking off toward his study. Once his father was out of sight Francis breathed a sigh of relief. Having an army officer as a father was no easy task.

***A little cottage on the edge of town was having bigger problems though***

"Hey! Poof! You're going to be late!" The harsh voice echoed through the house, a small shiver went down the back of a certain teenage boy getting ready in the washroom.

"I-I know dad. Ju-just give me a sec!" He shivered again; his father had not been kind to him ever since he had admitted to cross-dressing. But that hadn't stopped him, it just made him stronger. He moved closer to the mirror and did one final touch to his mascara, _perfect. _He stepped back and looked in his a full body mirror, he lightly tugged at his skirt fixing the way it sat on his hips.

" Queero! If you don't get your ass down here now, I'll come up there and strangle you with those scarves you love so much!" The boys hand wandered to one of said scarves that hung loosely around his neck. He quickly grabbed a pair of silver flats slipped them on his feet and rushed down stairs. When he came into the kitchen his father stood at the other end, arms crossed. "Now get." His father jerked his head indicating the door.

The boy took careful notice that his father stood in the one spot he did not have to pass in the whole kitchen. "Umm yeah bye dad...when mom gets up...tell her I said hey."

And biting back all of the insults and curses he wanted to throw at his father, the boy turned and left the house, skirt swishing back and forth all the way out.

***Off in an alley***

"Shiiit...what time is it." To anyone normal what they would have seen in said alley would have been a dumpster with a few items thrown off to the side and the normal graffiti on the walls. To anyone who knew the 'streets' they would see it as a shelter, but not just any shelter! They would see the tag on the wall, they would know that it represented a shelter of the infamous Gilbert, and so the informed avoided and the untrained followed suit, blindly trusting others. Said teen rolled out of aforementioned dumpster and hit the cement with a resounding smack "Fuuuck..."

Gilbert raised himself out of the gravel and cracked his back, then glanced down at 'his' watch. And of course his meaning the one he lifted the other day. His tired expression turned into a grimace as his 'borrowed' watch informed him that if he didn't hurry that he was soon going to be late for school. Now why would someone such as him be going to school? Well, we will just have to wait to find out.

***Just a few miles from that spot in a classic Japanese house***

"What is the gravitational constant?" An older looking man sits adjacent to his son, arms crossed and bamboo stick in hand.

"It equals, 6.67300 × 10-11 m3 kg-1 s-2" His son is 16 and a prodigy in all subjects, except for E.L.A.

"Solve for X, the equation is: x2 - 3|x - 2| - 4x = - 6"

"X=Y+2" Littering his exposed arms are dozens of thin bruises, and if he were go swimming you would see more that litter his torso and legs.

"First two hundred digits to pi go!" The bamboo branch in his father's hands matches the shape of the bruises almost exactly.

3...um...Father I appear to have forgotten a digit. Forgive me." And as the son bowed his head in apology a stick came down upon his neck.

"Less apologies. More memorization! Now get to school." With that the father left his son rubbing the back of his neck. The boy put his head down to the table and took a shaky breath, he pulled out a walkman and pushed the ear buds into his ears and began to play university lectures.

The boy pulled on his hair softly. "I-I'll try harder, I promise."

***Just a few minutes away from the school***

Our final teenager walks down the street, on his way to school. His parents have already wished him a good day and given him a healthy breakfast. He's is not looking forward to being forced into a social place for the next few months and is ranting to his closest friend, A Unicorn hallucination.

"I don't know why I should be bunched in with the rest of those Wankers who don't have a clue what they are doing." The unicorn nodded his head thoughtfully, "The only person who is ever ahead of me is Kiku! And yet they shove me in with the rest of these smegheads. I'm not even allowed to bring my char to school!"

The unicorn nodded solemnly "yeah...she makes the best nosh..." The truth was, the unicorn was sure of its existence, as was the teenager and even if you had told the boy that the unicorn was a figment of his imagination, he probably would have laughed at you.

Not one of our boys had realized the truth: Sometimes fate just wants to play a shitty joke, and sometimes you can do nothing but hold on for the ride.

***End Chapter 1**End Chapter 1**End Chapter 1***

*Mon dieu, my god in French

*Père, respective term for father in French

*Oui, yes in French

*Wanker, British, literally a masturbator; used as a general insult or term of abuse

* Smegheads, British, (slang) idiot; a general term of abuse

*Char, British, a woman employed as a cleaner, especially as an office cleaner Tea lady or canteen staff. (I'm using it as tea lady)

*Nosh, British, Food/Meal

(A/N) Hey everyone! So...I hope you enjoyed that fucked up piece of writing! Basically the plot is going to be these 11 kids going through one year of school together, friendships will be made, enemies will be had, parents will learn some new things as will the kids, and in the end someones mask will break and the will snap and go on a murdering rampage. And for anyone who is all like 'well Germany, and Americas lives seem ok' you wait! Prussia's and Germanys relate (A review for each of their stories for the first person to guess what their story is before it is published) and theirs is up there as pretty bad, and yeah America gets off easy...for now.

For now I have no pairings in this. But I'm going to set up a poll on my page to see if you guys think I should. So if you care whether there are pairings or not, please go vote! I value your input!

Reviews? Less than three guys!


End file.
